


Because I Dare

by songsafterdark



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Doctor Who References, Language, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Oral Sex, Sherlock References, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songsafterdark/pseuds/songsafterdark
Summary: Jamie comes to Malcolm's office for some fun before work.





	1. Cockcrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie comes to Malcolm's office for some fun before work.

In his office, Malcolm waited.

It was still dark outside. The sun wouldn't be up for another hour. The office was warm, and a single corner lamp made it cosy. He relished the quiet mornings before the fuckwits started arriving and everything went crazy.

Lying back in his chair, Malcolm half-closed his eyes, feeling his trousers becoming tighter as his anticipation built. A soft ping from his phone. Jamie. Ten minutes, Malc. I've been hard for at least the last hour, you bastard.

Ha. And I've been awake half the night with a cock that wouldn't let me fucking sleep, Malcolm texted back.

One, two, four, seven minutes ticked by on the large wall clock. The sky began edging out of blackness into a deep blue.

Somewhere downstairs, a door closed quietly, and Malcolm let his hand drop to his crotch as he listened to footsteps coming up the stairs and towards his office. He'd locked the door when he'd got in. Didn't want any nasty little surprises, like the Reeder twat turning up unannounced. Even so, he'd turned his chair away from the door.

The footsteps stopped. Two quiet taps, a brief pause, a key turning, and Jamie let himself in, making damn sure the door was locked again. He stood by the door, stroking the hard cock in his trousers, not saying a word but Malcolm could hear his quickening breathing. Still fully dressed, Malcolm didn't turn round but now devoted both hands to caressing his hard-on. More minutes passed.

Jamie was the first to give in. Malcolm's grip on his cock intensified as he listened to the soft rustling of trousers and underpants being undone and pulled down. A few steps, and Jamie stood before him, still in his shirt and tie but otherwise naked. The two men stared at one another, stroking themselves, breathing harder, Malcolm's eyes moving to Jamie's cock, and now Malcolm sighed and undid his belt and trousers, slipping them and his underpants down just enough for Jamie to kneel before him and take his cock between his lips, playing, pulling, teasing it with tongue and fingertips. 

Malcolm groaned. Oh, fuck. I'm going to fuck you, you handsome bastard.

Did you hear me objecting?

Shut the fuck up. Get down on your hands and knees. Now.

Jamie thought better of hesitating. Head down and and waiting on the carpet, he kept one hand on his cock as Malcolm opened a drawer for lube. A few moments later, he felt Malcolm's fingers dabbing cold silky wetness onto him. Have me.

Fucking going to have you.

He dared to look round. Malcolm was still almost fully dressed, not quite immaculate, trousers and underpants dishevelled around his hips, his hard penis wet and ready.

A hand suddenly yanked Jamie's hair and he yelped. That's for looking round, you cunt. Head down.

Head down once more, he waited, not daring to touch himself now. Malcolm knelt behind him, rubbing his penis tantalisingly close to Jamie's entrance, breathing hard and muttering. Fucking going to fuck you. He spread Jamie's cheeks just enough to push his cock against his anus, holding himself in place, starting to push in, half an inch or so. Bastard. I want more. Give me more.

You want my cock? You want to be full of my cock?

You fucking know I do.

Another half an inch, slipping, pushing, thrusting lightly, bastard tease. I said I want more. Please, Malc. Please fuck me.

Oh. You're begging. How cute.

Malcolm continued his torturously slow fuck of Jamie, gripping his waist to stop attempts to take any more than was allowed. He sped up a little, swore, then as if a reward for them both, slowly slid all the way in, growling as Jamie cursed.

 _Now_ I'm going to have you.

Malcolm held Jamie tight and began slamming him. Oh fuck. Oh yes. Oh fuck fuck fuck want you want all of you go harder go deeper fuck want you

Malcolm's hands pressing on Jamie's shoulders, taking him, pounding, slowing down, pressing his penis deep into him, the two of them groaning, swearing, panting. He had learnt to hold on for as long as he wanted. Jamie had not. Gonnacumgonnacum

In reply Malcolm slammed Jamie all the harder, let go inside, felt his body respond, slowed and tensed as the deliciousness spread all the way through each of them, crying out, gasping, slowly withdrawing.

They sat, spent, on the carpet.

The sunrise painted the sky with rich hues of orange and pink. Malcolm reached for his phone and punched in an order for pastries and two large coffees. A fresh shirt for each was ready in the cupboard. They'd shower first.

You know, Malc, us having each other in your office and mine is ... He didn't finish the sentence.

What? Malcolm snapped.

I like it. But ... Jamie couldn't quite admit what he wanted to say. What he wanted Malcolm to do.

The coffees and pastries arrived. They ate in silence, showered, dressed.

So, Jamie, have you fucking decided what the problem is?

Oh, I know what I want. It's, ah, oh, fuck it. Not just in the office. Take me home. Fuck me in your bed. And mine. He hesitated again, said a silent Fuck it to his upbringing, thought briefly about his mortgage, and laid a soft kiss on Malcolm's lips.

Silence.

Jamie.

Reeling inside from what he'd dared let himself do, Jamie couldn't look at Malcolm.

Jamie.

Yes.

Bastard.

Jamie's stomach lurched, but he said nothing, and waited.

Notice I haven't fucking smacked you into the middle of next week.

Jamie had noticed.

If. If you play your fucking cards right, it's not entirely beyond the realms of possibility I might fucking let you do that again. Malcolm finished his coffee, and stood. Jamie sat in silence.

Right. You've got work to do, haven't you? Fuck off and get on with it. Be here at six.

Jamie rose from his chair, then stepped back in shock as Malcolm returned the kiss. Right, Jamie. I didn't fucking do that. Now fuck the fuck off, will you? See you later.

Right you are, Malc. See you later. Grabbing his coat, Jamie unlocked the door and stepped out into the corridor. The building was still quiet. The door closed and locked behind him.

Malcolm sank into his chair, his mind and body storming. The bastard kissed me.

He grabbed his phone again, and ordered more coffee.


	2. Reminiscence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his early morning encounter with Malcolm, Jamie wonders how he's going to get through the day until they next meet. Malcolm is in his office, thinking about Jamie.

At his desk, Jamie sipped a second coffee, his mind returning again and again to the moment his and Malcolm's lips had met, replaying the too-brief moment of intimacy. Malcolm's own kiss had knocked him for six, and, if anything, had lasted just a little longer than Malcolm himself would ever admit. How the fuck he was going to get through today, he didn't know. Closing his eyes briefly, he let himself imagine a longer, slower kiss. Dammit. Finish the fucking coffee and get on with it. That was how to get through today.

Jamie?

He opened his eyes. Ollie Reeder was standing in front of him. Where did you fucking come from?

Er ... I've just come in. You all right?

Course I'm fucking all right.

Got you a coffee.

Oh. Thanks.

Ollie laid a large Costa takeaway cup on Jamie's desk and turned away to sit down. It was unusual for Jamie to let his guard down like that, even if no-one else was around. Ollie took a gulp of coffee, unzipped his shoulder bag and slid out his laptop in preparation for the day ahead.

The office slowly filled as the rest of the staff arrived, and before too long the angry chaos they were all used to was in full force.

*

Malcolm sat for a while, almost unseeing, as Jamie's words replayed themselves in his mind. Take me home. Fuck me in your bed. And in mine.

The cunt. He thought about their first time, at the party neither of them had wanted to go to, the looks between them, the text message he'd sent, the invitation to a room a couple of doors away from where everyone - almost everyone - was mingling and pretending they wanted to be there. Jamie had come. He'd slipped away and found Malcolm in that room, Malcolm swearing quietly, Malcolm visibly flustered. That first time had been a hand job, barely undressed, just the two of them somehow managing to communicate what they wanted, without so much as letting the words be spoken. Words could come later. For now, the fierce wanting, and each other's hands in the dimly-lit room could do all the talking.

Some first time. He'd gone home, undressed, and lain in bed, his fingers caressing his cock with thoughts of Jamie that had been there for a long time. Thoughts that told the rules to fuck off, that thundered through his body and showed him what he wanted. It didn't take long for him to come, and his dreams that night were full of the two of them. He couldn't quite remember when he'd first noticed his desire, but his body had faithfully led him, filled with energy at idle thoughts of Jamie's hands, Jamie's lips, Jamie close to him.

He let himself wander through their encounters since. There'd been a few, mostly after work. None of them involved the fucking stationery cupboard. A couple more hand jobs, mostly in the spirit of getting warmed up and not quite daring to go any further, even though they each knew what they wanted: Malcolm inside Jamie, on top of him, taking him quickly and without mercy, buttoning up quickly afterwards. Then, a few months later, the two men had undressed and lain naked together on the thick rug in Malcolm's office. That evening Malcolm had cried out as he came inside Jamie for the first time.

And now the bastard had kissed him.

Malcolm opened his laptop and began work. Six o'clock would come soon enough.


	3. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm needs to confess something to Jamie.

At six o'clock precisely, Jamie stood outside Malcolm's office door, almost not daring to knock. Ten hours earlier, he'd taken what had felt like a stomach-churningly large risk, and Malcolm's response, although half-denied, had rewarded him. He wondered how Malcolm's day had been.

A voice from inside. I know you're there, Jamie, I heard you coming. You can't fool me that fucking easily.

Dammit.

He half-expected the door to be wrenched open as usual. Instead, the door opened slowly, even bordering on the courteous. It reminded Jamie of the invitation he'd received from Malcolm at _that_ party.

Well, come the fuck in then.

Jamie almost chuckled. Some things would never change.

Once inside, Malcolm closed and double-locked the door, and gestured Jamie to a chair. He accepted the seat, and tried to make himself comfortable as Malcolm leaned back against a wall. He was too nervous to feel much arousal, or even to say a single word.

Malcolm broke the silence. Well, I don't know about you, but today ...

Jamie acknowledged him with a nod.

Oh. You too.

Another nod.

Malcolm sighed. Ah, we're from the same fucking city. You're a bit younger than me, true, but I know I don't need to explain. All that fucking shit, it does my fucking head in. 

Jamie managed to speak for the first time. You're not alone in that, Malc. And I've seen too many lads get their fucking heads kicked in for breaking the rules.

Thought so. Me too. Listen, I don't know if you ever watch Doctor Who. But there's an episode where the Doctor is stuck inside this big fucking castle for eleventy billion years or whatever, and this shadowy bastard follows him around, won't leave him alone. Know what I mean?

Yeah, I know that episode. Probably the best I've seen. Heaven Sent, right?

Right. Well, there's something just like that shadowy bastard been following me around in my head ever since, well, he's been there for a long time. But since that party a few months ago I've been having nightmares with him right in the fucking middle of them. Need to find a door, apparently. 

He hesitated. Oh. And something about a fucking confession. Malcolm picked up his phone and scrolled to a website. Right. Get this.

 _It's not just truth it wants._  
_That's not enough._  
_It's confession._  
_I have to tell truths I've never told before._  
_That's the only thing that stops it._

Jamie said nothing, but raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. He knew very well what Malcolm meant.

Malcolm was silent for a few moments.  Oh, Jamie. You don't know. Or maybe you do. I've been trying to tell myself the truth for a long time now. For years. For fucking decades. But apparently that's not enough.

More silence. Jamie waited, sensing what might be coming.

This is my confession, Jamie. Will you hear it?

Exhaling gently, inviting Malcolm, Jamie closed his eyes. It was enough of a yes for Malcolm to cross the room to where Jamie sat; to kneel, pull him by the tie towards him, and press the most tender of kisses on Jamie's lips.

Jamie hardly dared breathe, but he answered Malcolm's kiss with his own longing.

Deep inside Malcolm, the shadow stopped in motion, satisfied.

Bolder now, Jamie slipped out of the chair to join Malcolm on the rug, holding him in his arms. Oh, Malc, I hear your confession.

Thank you, Jamie. I know.

They lingered on the rug, drawing out the confession with slow and deepening kisses, telling it good and fully, ensuring its truth could never be denied again.

Come home with me, Jamie.

I'd love to, Malc.

Thank you. Oh fuck, I want you.

Fucking want you too.

Let's go, then.

Yeah. Jamie was already imagining waking up next to Malcolm, snuggled in his arms. Yeah, let's go.

They slowly got up from the rug, gathering their coats and laptop cases. Malcolm switched off the light and locked the door, and they left the building in silence. Jamie wanted to grab Malcolm's hand, but thought better of it for now. Besides, he might be able to hold his hand later.


	4. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Jamie are naked together in Malcolm's bed. No sex. Lots of tenderness.

Late that night, lying naked in Malcolm's bed in the dark, Jamie listened to the sounds of them breathing, and was fairly sure Malcolm wasn't asleep just yet.

He was right. Malcolm lay on his back, mulling over what had been a hell of a day. He sighed. You still awake?

Yeah. He felt Malcolm's hand looking for his and took it, gently pressing their fingers together.

A few minutes later, Malcolm spoke. You were a daring bastard this morning, Jamie. Guess this ol' dog needed to slip his collar sometime. Thank you.

Reckon it's been a day of confession for us both, Malc.

You got that right.  He paused.  And I can't say I'm done yet.

Well, it's not like all the shit gets undone in one night.

That fucking Doctor Who episode again. Huge thick wall. Took billions of years to punch his way through it. I ain't got that long, but there's the Doctor for you.

There was another one where he and his missus had a date night lasting 24 years. Fuck me, that must've been one hell of a night.

Think the office might notice if we both fucked off for 24 years.

And then come back and do a Moriarty. Did ya miss me?

They laughed together.

Ah, fuck, Jamie. I can't tell you ... just being able to hold, to feel ... Touch. I need touch. I've never been able to say that before. Fuck, I need you to touch me, I'm so fucking hungry. Hungry like you wouldn't believe.

Bet you anything I do believe. Jamie let go of Malcolm's hand to stroke the rough stubble of his face, smiling as the older man nuzzled his fingers, kissing them, biting softly, holding Jamie's hand to his cheek. You like that?

Oh yes. Fuck, yes. Need you to ... will you hold me?

Thought you'd never fucking ask. Come here, then.

Malcolm rolled over towards Jamie, letting him wrap his arms around him, hold him close. Thank you.

Jamie laid a kiss on his forehead. You daft bugger.

They lay entwined in the silence of the night, breathing, each feeling the warm nakedness of the other, occasionally reaching for another kiss. There would never be any such thing as too many kisses. Not after today.


End file.
